


We Wear Our Scars About Our Necks

by JEAikman



Series: The Musketeers - prompts and one-shots [7]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Violence, d'artagnan is once again my victim, not sure if milady counts as major character death but i put it there just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1206865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JEAikman/pseuds/JEAikman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt from sambiewisegamgee on tumblr</p>
<p>Milday goes to visit d'Artagnan and she doesn't expect Athos to be in there and then he walks in on the two of them and is like 'what the hells going on here' and d'Artagnan's like 'wait, this is your dead wife??'</p>
<p>This turned out angstier than I was expecting so yeah. sorry about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Wear Our Scars About Our Necks

He hadn't been expecting her there - and when he saw her, he'd completely forgotten about everything else. She gazed at him so intently - it was terrifying. Constance was right. This was a bad idea, this was a terrible idea, but saying no seemed impossible, because he was quite sure she had plenty more daggers than the one she had used the first night and could kill him quite easily.

"Oh, d'Artagnan, you're such a sweet little boy, don't you know that? So innocent of the sins of your fellows. What sins you have are simple." She smirked, her hand cupping his cheek as she circled around him. "Easily forgivable. Such cannot be said of many of your fellows." She had such a cold, knowing smile that it made him shudder - what could she possibly be talking about?

 

Seeing his confusion, she just smiled wider - a predatory grin, and she placed a hand on his chest and shoved him forcefully back onto the bed.

"Do you think he'd care..." She mused, more to herself than d'Artagnan, and his brow furrowed, confused.

"Who?" He asked, completely at a loss now. She stared at him for a long minute, as if deciding whether or not it was wise to impart the information, before leaning forward and whispering into his ear, in much the way Constance had, a while ago- "My husband, of course."

He suddenly had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.  His horror must have shown on his face, for she tilted his head so that he faced her, and smiled sweetly - wickedly sweetly. "Oh, poor dear, realising you have a type." He shot her a glare. "Oh yes" She continued. "I know all about your feelings for Madame Bonacieux, _Gascon_." He frowned at that - if this woman was so truly perceptive, surely she would know that it was not Constance who held his heart, but rather Athos. But he decided to play along with it. It might just keep him alive.

 

But she saw the hesitancy in his eyes, and she drew her dagger, even as she straddled him. "Oh poor boy. I am a monstrous creature, I'll admit, but my husband, that disgusting man, who would have seen me _hanged-"_

She would have continued but for the fact that Athos had chosen that moment to barge through the door.

"Take your hands off him, you demon." He snarled, stepping forward. She did not stop, but merely levelled the knife in her hand at d'Artagnan's exposed throat. Athos stopped in his approach, eyes wide.

"Let him go. You have no quarrel with him." She pouted, as if she were a child and he'd decided to withhold from her a very pretty plaything. D'Artagnan just frowned, confused, until realisation dawned.

"Oh...well. This explains a lot." He grumbled unhappily.

"What?" Athos and Milady both said at the same time, before glaring at each other.

"Well, the fact that the crazy lady who framed me for slitting that guys throat in that tavern is actually Athos's ex-wife just kind of makes a lot of sense." She pressed the knife closer to his skin in recompense for that comment, and he tried so very hard not to swallow. Athos visibly paled.

"Let him go, Anne."

"I don't think I will. You seem oddly fond of the boy". Both men froze at that. Milady paused, staring between them, and a cruel smile crept upon her lips when she realised what the look between them meant. "But oh!" She exclaimed, "This is delicious. If I press but a little harder-"she did so, and d'Artagnan whimpered. She seemed to drink in the noise greedily. "your _love_ will die. And this time, this time, Athos. _You will watch._ " So intent was she on this torturing of the pair, that she did not notice when Constance came up behind her, stabbing her with d'Artagnan's sword.

"That'll teach you to come into _my_ house as you please, you inhuman creature." She spat on the fallen woman for good measure. She bent over her to whisper in her ear. "No one messes with my boys and gets away with it, _Milady_." She allowed herself a triumphant smirk, but it fell away when she saw d'Artagnan desperately clutching at his neck, blood pouring through his fingers.

"Madame!" Athos called urgently. "A scarf, a piece of your dress. Anything to staunch it, and quickly!" His voice was trembling, but that did not matter right now. Constance nodded and promptly ripped her skirt, handing the torn strip to the Musketeer, who wrapped it a few times around d'Artagnan's neck, before tying it firmly - but not too tightly. The boy's eyes were wide, and Athos could see he was terrified, and he held him close, letting d'Artagnan take what comfort he could from his warmth.

"Constance, if you would, fetch Aramis, and a surgeon. Make haste." Constance nodded, and ran out of the house - where she quite literally ran into Aramis.

"Oh good, go upstairs. There was a woman and she nearly killed d'Artagnan so I killed her but he's hurt. And I'm off to fetch a surgeon so don't let him die while I'm gone!" She told him and then pushed past without another word.

 

Aramis wasted no time then in making his way to d'Artagnan's room after that. He saw the young man shivering in Athos's arms. And a dead woman on the floor. Must have been who Madame Bonacieux was talking about before.

"Aramis" Athos greeted. He seemed calm enough. That was a good sign. "I don't think it was overly deep, but it was still bleeding a lot." Aramis nodded thoughtfully, and gently tilted d'Artagnan's head so that the boy was looking at him.

"Well, he seems aware enough, so the bloodloss isn't too bad. And his eyes aren't glazed over, so he's not gone into shock, not yet anyway." He didn't fail to notice the way Athos's arms curled protectively around the boy at that.

" _he_ d'sn 'pr'ciate talk l'k n't th'r." D'Artagnan struggled to say. Aramis winced, and Athos growled.

"It's not wise for you do speak right now, alright?" Aramis soothed. "I promise we'll get you patched up just as soon as Constance returns. You'll be alright." He patted the boy awkwardly on the shoulder, but before they could do anything else, the young Gascon slumped in Athos's arms.

 

* * *

 

When d'Artagnan woke, he was lying on a familiar bed. Not his own, but one he knew just as well. There was someone sitting by the bedside, hand soothingly combing through his hair, whispering sweet nothings and promises of protection.

He opened his eyes, and found himself staring into the face of Athos. Who had on his face such a look of relief that he seemed about to collapse from the force of it.

"'Thos?" It hurt to speak, and he winced. Athos sighed and shook his head.

"You shouldn't speak yet. It will take a few more weeks for it to heal completely. Here now. Try and drink." He pressed a cup of water to his lips, and the boy took a few tentative sips. It hurt to swallow, but it wasn't as if he had much choice. Athos smiled sadly and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"My brave little Gascon. I'm so sorry." He whispered as he pressed more kisses, one to his cheek, another to his ear, and then one on the corner of his lips, using them to plead forgiveness, which really wasn't fair, especially as there was no forgiveness needed. D'Artagnan shook his head, but when he pulled back from the bedridden idiot, Athos could see he was smiling.

"I'll go fetch Aramis to check your bandages. I won't be long." He promised. And, left alone with nothing but his own thoughts for company, d'Artagnan's mind returned to Milady, and how perfectly she'd exacted her revenge.

Oh, he might not be dead, but she'd marked him - hadn't she? He had his scar now. The same scars as her.


End file.
